


Eliot and the Key

by sadlittlepeachesandplums



Series: Quentin and Eliot Drabble Collection [10]
Category: The Magicians (TV)
Genre: Angst, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, what is a happy ending? because its not this
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-21
Updated: 2018-02-21
Packaged: 2019-03-22 01:01:39
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,332
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13752954
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sadlittlepeachesandplums/pseuds/sadlittlepeachesandplums
Summary: He doesn’t mean to touch it, but his life sucks and the universe hates him. He’s shuffling through the stacks of papers Quentin’s left on the table in the dining room, trying to figure out where they’d left off so he can at least help Quentin in that aspect. Since he won’t pass the key to anyone else, or come out of his room.





	Eliot and the Key

He doesn’t mean to touch it, but his life sucks and the universe hates him. He’s shuffling through the stacks of papers Quentin’s left on the table in the dining room, trying to figure out where they’d left off so he can at least help Quentin in that aspect. Since he won’t pass the key to anyone else, or come out of his room.

But, in his haste to try to escape the monster in the key, he’d forgotten it behind, beneath a book. And Eliot’s knuckles graze against it, swift and barely at all.

It’s enough, though. Eliot crashes abckwards, against the wall the TADA sign hangs off of, as a familiar version of him appears on the other side of the table. His hair is disheveled, skin clammy, and he’s wearing a navy vest he hasn’t worn in months. Eliot clenches his jaw, pushes away from the wall, and levels himself with a glare.

“You—“

But key-him raises a hand, “Don’t,” he says. He takes a step closer, “Eliot, what are you doing?”

Without meaning to, Eliot takes the step back towards the wall, jaw still clenched as he eyes this bizarre twilight zone version of himself. “What are you talking about?”

The other him leans forward, bracing himself on the table. “Do you really think bringing back magic will fix you? You think the loss of magic is the reason your kingdom’s failing?” He scoffs, turning to walk along the side of the table, one finger trailing on the edge of it. “You think if you fix what your little pet did, you’ll be able to be happy?”

He chooses to ignore the blatant jab at Quentin. “I  _am_  happy.”

A hollow laugh. “Are you?”

He’s not sure what it is about the question that sends tingling down his spine. “Yes.”

Other him moves around the end of the table, “You’re in love with a loser that took away everything that’s ever mattered to you. He took magic, Brakebills, your bond with Margo—“

“That wasn’t—“

“ _Mike_.”

Eliot _s_ tumbles backwards with a shake of his head, “No. I—“

“How fucking pathetic do you have to be to fall in love with the one thing that consistently makes you miserable? Do you think you’ll kill him, too?”

Eliot’s hand shakes as he takes a step back for every take the hallucination takes forward. “I wouldn’t—“

“Every person you’ve ever loved, you’ve killed. Mike, Logan—“

Eliot shakes his head, hands closing into fists. He’d never loved Logan. He’d just been his bully. But there was a reason for that, though, wasn’t there? Every one knew about the crush he’d had before everything went to shit. Everyone knew why Logan hit him so relentlessly. There’d been a point to make, after all.

“What will you do when Quentin says the wrong thing, Eliot? Makes the wrong move?”

“I would  _never_  hurt him.”

But the other him has a point. Eliot’s not a violent person. An addict and an alcoholic, absolutely. But he’s not violent. Except he is, isn’t he? He’s killed every person he’s ever loved.

Other him clicks his tongue, stopping directly in front of him. “Your kingdom has gone to shit, all because of  _you_.” Eliot purses his lips, shaking his head, but before he can respond, the apparition continues, “Your friendships have all fallen apart. The only time you were ever actually happy was in a life where Quentin had no choice but to love you.” He shakes his head, pity fueled, “And even then he fought that for as long as he could.”

“You—“

“You’ve failed your people. You’ve failed your friends. And to top it all off,” He leans in and points at Eliot menacingly, “You are so unloveable, the only people that—“

“Eliot?” Another voice calls, slightly panicked. Quentin rounds the corner, and looks across the room at him, “I think someone else—“ he stops, as Eliot, tucked away in the corner of the dining room looks up at him, “Eliot,  _no_.”

As Quentin rushes across the room towards him, the key scoffs. “If you really loved him you’d kill yourself, you know.” Eliot’s eyes dart up, ignoring Quentin as hands come to gently grab at him. “You know it’s true. He’s a disaster that takes everything from you, but if you somehow, magically get what you want, he’s going to die.” The other him kneels down, just past Quentin. He eyes Quentin, a nasty sneer on his face. “Loving you is like a death sentence. And—“

“— _lease_ , ignore it.” Eliot’s finally able to tear his eyes away from the vision to look at Quentin. He realizes Quentin’s got both hands on his face, holding him so he has no choice but to look at him. “There you are,” He breathes, a desperate sigh of relief, as his thumb strokes Eliot’s cheekbone.

For a moment, Eliot stares at him, wide eyed. He can practically see it. Quentin lying bloody and battered on the ground. Dead. Either because of something Eliot did directly, or because of a decision he made. The key is right. Everyone he loves he gets killed. Or hurt. Or he completely destroys everything good about them. He’d ruined everything between Quentin and Alice—the one thing he knew to make Quentin happy. He pushed Margo away. He’d  _killed_  Mike. Sure, in the end he’d been the beast, but did any of them really know if he’d been the beast all along? And either way, beneath the best, he’d been a real person. A person Eliot loved.

Just like Quentin.

Is he going to get Quentin killed?

The key him is suddenly right next to him, hissing into his ear, “ _Yes_.”

Quentin pulls him back with a tug of his hair, “Eliot. Where’s the key?”

Eliot shakes his head, pulling away, backing into the corner, frantically trying to claw his way out of Quentin’s grip. He has to get away from him. He has to—he has to. He stops moving, a long, motionless exhale pushes out of him, as his eyes dart around the room. He has to. It’s the only way.

There’s no fear, at the realization. Somehow it feels right.

It’s the only way to protect the people he loves. The only way he can fix himself and the mess he’d made of the world around him.

Quentin jumps up, “Fuck,” He cries, rushing over to the table, slamming books and throwing papers around. Eliot slowly pushes himself to his feet, as papers flutter around in the air around him. It’d be so easy. He just has to— “ _Finally_!” Quentin exclaims, thrusting one hand into the air victoriously. Eliot glances up, just in time to see the sunlight glint off the key, from where it shines in the window. Quentin turns back to him, raises his eyebrows, and points the key at him, “Don’t do anything stupid.” And then he darts out of the room, and up the stairs.

Eliot stares after him, slack jawed.

A heavy weight lifts off his chest. But the thoughts don’t disappear as Quentin hides the key.

But then Quentin reappears, eyes darting behind him, and Eliot knows there must be a version of him taunting him. But Quentin ignores the key’s taunts, and stops in front of Eliot. Pushes up on his tip toes, and wraps his arms around the back of Eliot’s neck, until he’s pulling him into a tight embrace. Eliot slowly raises his arms to wrap them around Quentin’s waist.

 _Don’t die. Don’t die. Don’t die_. He chants to himself, closing his eyes.  _Please, Quentin, don’t die_.

One of Quentin’s hands move to cup the back of Eliots neck, and he pulls away, just enough to say, “You’re okay, El.” His voice shakes, and he moves back in. “Everything it said was wrong. You’re okay. Trust me.”

Eliot nods. He wants to agree. Wants to push it all down, and never face it again.

But how can he push down the truth?


End file.
